Trixie's Night Out
by Sheryl Nantus
Summary: Trixie gets an offer she can't refuse...


Trixie's Night Out

Trixie's Night Out

By Sheryl Nantus

Rating: G, 2008 Movieverse

Synopsis: Trixie gets an offer she can't refuse.

Disclaimer: No. Not mine.

It had started out as another usual day in the Racer household. Speed and Sparky were hunched over the Mach 6 in the garage attempting to salvage and replace parts; Pops sitting in front of his drawing table working on yet another design and Mom in the kitchen working on lunch. And, as usual, Spritle and Chim-Chim were running around the house screaming at the top of their lungs as one chased the other and then reversed roles.

Then the doorbell rang.

"Spritle! Don't you dare jump on that couch one more time!" Mom wiped her hands on her apron as she approached the door. "And don't even try to blame it on Chim-Chim!" Her attention turned towards the garage. "And if this is another sponsor, Speed – you better come and deal with him!"

The door opened to reveal an older gentleman standing there, wearing a black suit and holding a briefcase in both hands in front of him.

"Mr. Togokahn." Mom exhaled. "Please, come in." Moving to one side she glanced around. "May I offer you some tea?"

"That would be nice." The businessman sat down, sitting straighter than she had ever seen anyone sit. "If it's not too much trouble."

"No, none at all." She moved towards the garage. "Let me get my husband."

"Yes, please." He clutched the briefcase on his lap. "I would like to talk to him, if it's not too much trouble."

Pops appeared a minute later, signaled by Mom's frantic hand motions. "Mr. Togokahn." The carchitect moved to sit across from the older man. "What can we do for you today?" Out of the corner of his eye he could see Speed and Sparky hovering in the kitchen, keeping Spritle and the monkey from interfering in the conversation.

"I…" The CEO of Togokahn Motors paused, and then continued. "I have come to ask for your forgiveness for the past." He drew a deep breath, putting up one hand before Pops could interrupt. "Please, I must."

"The actions I have taken in the past, no matter how much I thought it were for the good of my family name and company, has brought you harm. And for us, dishonor." The older man shook his head. "Our deal with Royalton has been nullified and has brought us nothing but pain. Pain that I caused you, Mr. Racer."

Pops sat there, arms crossed in front of him as he watched the businessman open up the briefcase. The papers began to unfold across the coffee table.

"I would like to place an order with Racer Motors for ten T-180 cars."

The elder Racer's eye twitched even as a trio of gasps came from the general vicinity of the kitchen.

Togokahn continued. "We will pay in advance for these fine cars, of course. And you may deliver them on your own schedule." His eyes stayed on the printed contracts. "Your vehicles are like fine samurai swords, sir. You cannot rush perfection."

"And what do you want in exchange?"

"What?" Togokahn's head snapped up.

"What do you want? My son to drive them? My mechanic to work for you?" A reddish tint colored Pops' cheeks. "You want to steal my family instead of buying them?" His voice began to rise as he got to his feet.

The elder businessman jumped up. "No! No!" He raised his hands in the air. "All I want to do is make amends!" His attention shifted to Mom Racer who approached with a tray. "All I'm trying to do is remedy the wrongs I have done."

Mom moved between the two men, placing the tray down atop the contracts. She turned towards her husband. "Can't hurt to hear the man out, dear." Her tone shifted slightly as she caught his eye. "After all, he did come here to talk to us."

Huffing slightly the Racer patriarch sat down again as did his counterpart. Mom smiled widely as she poured out three cups of tea, handing one to the CEO. "Cookie?"

"No, thank you." He took a sip of the hot liquid, a grin spreading across his face. "Gunpowder green? Forgive me for being pleasantly surprised."

"Why, yes. Thank you." She sat down at the couch beside Pops. "I keep some on hand for esteemed visitors."

He bowed his head slightly in her direction. "I thank you for your kindness." His attention turned back to Pops. "I offer no conditions, sir. You may look over the contracts at your leisure and add or subtract clauses if you wish." The bearded man glanced at Mom. "As my daughter can attest to I am a hard man to deal with. But I am not stupid and know when wrongs need to be righted."

Pops huffed again, digging out one stack of paper from under the tray. "I'll look this over and get back to you."

"As you wish." Another dip of the head. "And I would also like to discuss hiring one of your drivers for an upcoming race."

A scowl came across Pops' face. "What race? The season's over for another few months."

"True." The Togokahn elder nodded. "But in an attempt to make amends with the public after all this… business Togokahn has agreed to sponsor a new race. It will take place in two weeks at Thunderhead Raceway, which I know you are well-acquainted with."

"And you want my son to drive for you?" The flush returned to the older Racer's cheeks. "You want my son to drive for you in that race?"

A confused look came over the senior's face. "No, I…" He looked around the room. "I mean, I would like to hire one of your drivers…"

Right then the kitchen door swung open, admitting the only other woman allowed into the Racer inner sanctum. Trixie paused in the kitchen, the smile frozen on her face as she took in the setting in front of her.

"Ah… hello?" She glanced at Speed and Sparky who were busy holding the two junior members of the Racer household in a series of karate holds and the Racer parents who had now turned towards her.

"Her." Togokahn raised a hand. "I want to hire her."

88888888

"What?" Speed emerged from the kitchen, still holding Spritle in a choke hold. "What?"

"Speed, let your little brother go!" Mom nodded towards them. "And you too, Sparky."

Released from their captivity the two youngest members sprang over the couch and to the relative safety of Pops, pouting.

"You want to hire Trixie?" Speed pointed at the young woman standing beside him.

Togokahn's forehead furrowed. "She is not a member of Racer Motors?"

"Well, not technically." Pops mumbled.

"But she drove for my son during the Crucible when he was incapacitated." The businessman stood up. "My son told me that she was…" He paused, searching for the right words. "An 'awesome' driver."

"Well, I do know how to handle a car." Trixie stepped forward, a wide grin on her face. She put her hands on her hips. "The car was pretty good as well."

"Thank you." Togokahn bowed again. "Your skills were responsible in no small part for our success in that race."

"Which you used to trick the C.I.B. into winning." Speed advanced on the man, one of his trademark blue shirt stained with oil and grease.

"True. I cannot deny that." His eyes remained on Trixie. "The race is called 'Femme Fatale' and is to be held at Thunderhead in two weeks. Only female drivers may race and since my company does not have any women…" He spread his hands, a smile on his face. "I thought that I could also make amends by hiring one of your drivers."

"But she's not…" Speed sputtered as he spun around to face his girlfriend. "She's not a driver! And she's not going to drive for you!"

The woman in question crossed her arms and scowled at the young man. "I can drive pretty well, Mr. Speed Racer." She nodded towards the businessman. "What's the race?"

Togokahn sat down again, a widening grin on his face. "Five laps." He lifted one hand. "We will be pleased to supply your vehicle and a percentage of the purse, of course."

Trixie pursed her lips. "Standard WRL contract?"

The elder CEO's face went blank for a minute as he stared at the woman; the pink blouse threatening to fall open thanks to a strategically placed set of open buttons. "Standard." He replied, his tone less friendly.

"Wait a minute!" Speed grabbed her arm. "You can't drive for him. You can't."

"Why not?" The brunette smiled. "It's only one race, Speed. Just one race."

"You can't." His hands curled upwards, clenching into fists. "I won't let you."

"You won't 'let' me?" Her eyes widened as she glared at him. "You won't 'let' me?"

Mom Racer got to her feet in a hurry, brushing non-existent fluff from her apron. "I'm sure you're a busy man, Mr. Togokahn. My husband will be in touch with you by tomorrow regarding the contracts."

Following her lead Pops stood up as well, putting his hands on his hips. "Yes, yes I will. I don't see any need to continue this meeting until I look over these contracts." His eyes moved over the stacks of paper. "But if everything's in order I don't see a problem with fulfilling an order."

The CEO's grin was wide and honest. "Thank you, Mr. Racer. I hope that we can continue to build a good working relationship." His eyes went to the two drivers as they glared at each other. "Ah… I'll wait for your call, then." Stepping back he allowed himself to be guided to the door by Mom who beamed her appreciation as the businessman exited.

88888888

"You won't 'let' me?" Trixie's tone continued to rise as she stared at Speed who stood his ground in the kitchen, arms crossed in front of him.

"Spritle. Garage." Mom gave the two youngest members of the Racer family The Look which prompted a quick evacuation from the living room.

"I'll be there as well." Sparky disappeared in a scramble of arms and legs.

Pops looked down at the contracts in his hand. "I'll be at my desk looking these over." He glanced at his wife. "Want to join me?"

"I think that would be a good idea." The redhead looked at the couple. "Do not break anything." The Racer parents walked through the door to the garage, closing it securely behind them.

"You won't 'let' me?" Trixie repeated for the fourth time. "Since when did I need you to 'let' me do anything?"

"Oh, come on, Trix…" The young man forced a smile onto his face. "You don't want to drive for Togokahn. And not in a real League race."

"Why not?" She turned away from him, nose in the air and eyes closed. "You said I was good on the road during those turns."

"Sure, except for when Snake almost took your head off!" His tone began to rise. "Do you know how scared I was when I saw him spinning that tire so close to your head?"

One eye opened. "I was fine."

"After I knocked the crap out of that jerk. And pushed him off the road." Stepping closer Speed spread his hands. "Look, I just don't want anything to happen to you. Is that such a bad thing?"

The brunette turned around, a slight pout on her face. "It's a race at Thunderhead. No ice caves, no cliffs." Her sandaled foot dragged across the linoleum. "I won't even be out of your sight. Besides, you think anyone's going to mess with this race? The ink's barely dry on Royalton's conviction; no one's going to do anything openly."

"Which is what I'm afraid of." He tilted his head to one side, a boyish smile on his lips. "How about I check this out with the Inspector and see if it's on the up-and-up? Then you can decide if you really want to drive in this race or not."

She tried but eventually surrendered to the seductive grin, matching it and returning it in force. "Okay. But no trying to convince him that you should do it wearing a dress. Or Racer X."

"Now would I do that?"

"In a second." She glanced towards the closed doors. "But for upsetting me you owe me a trip to the shopping mall. Then you can go talk to your Inspector."

"And maybe a sidetrip to Inspiration Point?" Speed grinned, stripping the filthy shirt off with both hands.

"If you clean up quickly enough and we have time." Keeping her arms crossed she leaned forward to drop a kiss on his cheek.

8888888

"The race is perfectly legitimate." The man behind the desk looked up from his papers. "You seem less than thrilled with that."

Speed shook his head. "I don't believe that for a second. We can't trust Togokahn. You know that."

The Inspector nodded. "I didn't. However, recent events have shown me that it is possible for a man to change." He studied the young racer's face. "You're not happy with the idea of Trixie being a driver."

"Well, I'm not thrilled." He leaned forward, hands tightly clenched together. "I just don't want anything to happen to her." A weak smile emerged on the young face. "I don't know what I'd do without her."

"I understand. But in this case, Togokahn is honestly trying to reform his public image. It may be WRL-approved but it's not the big leagues; I can't see a lot of fixing going on for what seems to be more of a promotional tool than a race." A finger shot into the air. "Make no mistake; this is not as innocent as you might think. Having a driver even remotely associated with the Racer family will lend a great deal of respectability to the race and to Togokahn Motors. The only thing better would be having you drive and that wasn't an option."

"But is she in danger?"

The C.I.B man shrugged. "As much as you are when you drive. Some of the entries are women who you encountered during the Casa Cristo rally. They might not want to pass up an opportunity to pay back the favor, be it to your girlfriend instead of to you directly."

"So I should tell her not to do it." A sigh of relief escaped Speed's lips.

"I didn't say that. And if she asks me I would have to deny telling you that." He smiled, a touch of sadness in his eyes. "You can't protect everyone, Speed. I know that all too well."

The young driver got to his feet. "So I should let her race?"

"You don't know women very well, do you?" A low chuckle came from the Inspector. "I'll go over my connections one more time but I think that I can safely say that the race is as above ground as it can be. But…" His eyes narrowed. "You may want to warn Trixie that she will be a target. That much I can guarantee."

88888888

Trixie was waiting for him at the corner with an armful of shopping bags, a wide grin on her face. "I found some great sales!"

"I see." Popping the trunk of the Mach 5 Speed walked around, watching as she dumped multiple bags into the tiny space. "Leave anything for the other women to buy?"

She slapped his arm playfully. "And what did the Inspector say?"

"He said that Togokahn was clean. At least as far as the race goes." He slid in behind the wheel as she curled up in the passenger seat. "But he thinks that a lot of the girls I had to deal with on the Crucible are going to be gunning for you."

"Well, sure." The brunette blew a loud raspberry in the air as he peeled away from the sidewalk, leaving a scent of burnt rubber in the air. "You'd be a fool to not think that."

The dark-haired young man glanced beside him, keeping an eye on the road. "You knew that? And you still want to drive?"

"Didn't stop you from going to the Grand Prix." Crossing her legs Trixie leaned back in the red leather seat. "The race is in two days. They're delivering the car to the garage tomorrow morning."

Speechless for one of the few times in his life Speed just kept driving; his fingers tight on the steering wheel.

88888888

The next morning a truck pulled up to the Racer garage, a T-180 car carefully secured on the flatbed. The driver hopped out, clipboard in hand and grinned at Sparky.

"Got something here for you."

A few minutes later the race car sat next to the battered Mach 6, the pristine white paint a glaring contrast to the weary racer. Pops came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel.

"Nice car." He grinned at Sparky who had already begun to set out his tools. "But I think we can make her a bit better."

Speed sat on a stool in front of the workbench, toying with a wrench. "I guess."

Popping the hood Pops disappeared under the metal. "Well, I think Trixie's a darned fine driver, even if my son doesn't."

"I think she's a great driver!" The young man jumped off the stool putting his hands in his stained coveralls. "You know that, Pops. You saw her spin those curves in the mountains. She's better than half those drivers ever could be."

The mustached man's face appeared through a gap in the metal. "Then why are you being so negative about this?"

He shrugged. "I just don't want her to get hurt."

"Well, then you better wrap her up in bubble wrap and stick her in a box then. Sparky, check that setting there. No, there." A clang of metal on metal. "Hmph. Typical Togokahn Motors, playing it safe. Let's crank that baby up a bit." Another clang. "Oh, and that's got to go. Let me see if we've got something with a bit more kick."

The elder Racer reappeared, streaks of grease on his face. "Speed, I haven't given you much advice about women because I figured you didn't need it." Walking over to the workbench he picked up a rag and dabbed at his cheeks. "But you're being a fool if you go on with this."

Speed sat back on the stool, his mouth hanging open.

"Son, your mother was my best friend before she became my wife." The carchitect leaned on the metal shelf. "Remember when I went and quit working for the suits?"

"Sort of." He mumbled in response.

"I went and quit and then came home and told your mother." The stout man shook his head. "Biggest mistake of my life. You didn't see it but we had one whopper of a fight about it."

Speed cocked his head to one side. "I don't remember that."

"Of course not. We didn't fight in front of you kids." Pops chuckled. "We agreed on that rule when we started having kids. But she was ticked off that I hadn't even discussed it with her and she was right. I couldn't make decisions for her and quitting my job affected both of us."

"Yeah, but it all worked out fine." The driver waved at the open garage. "If you hadn't quit then the Mach 5 and 6 wouldn't have ever been built."

"True. But we didn't know that. I didn't know that. And I let my selfishness for doing what I wanted to do almost destroy our marriage."

"Mom almost left you?" Speed's eyes went wide.

"She never said a word but I know she was very upset with me." Pops rubbed his hands with the rag again. "But we worked through it because I figured out that I was wrong and apologized. Then we were working as a team together and that's what made Racer Motors a success." He grinned. "And you kids, of course."

"So you think I'm being selfish about not wanting Trixie to drive?"

"I think you're not thinking about her as much as you're thinking about yourself. Do you want a girlfriend who can drive almost as good as you can?" He chuckled. "And before you say anything she's good – but not as good as you are. But she could be if she decided to train harder and stop flying that chopper around."

"Maybe." The young man sulked, arms crossed in front of him. "I just don't want to see her get hurt."

"Neither do I." Pops reached out, putting a hand on his son's shoulder. "But she'll be unhappy if you don't let her find out what she wants to do. And do you really want to make her unhappy?"

"No, I don't. I just want to keep her safe."

"Good luck on that. Sparky, get the other one!" He barked as the mechanic popped up from under the hood. "You remember that day that you brought home that bomb?"

Speed shuddered, eyes closed. "I was stupid. All I could think about was how cool I was taking a delivery for Rex with a new friend on the back of my cart."

"Well, you couldn't have known different. No, the other other one!" A thick hand waved in the air. "Did you ever think about what would have happened to Trixie if that bomb had gone off before you got to the garage? Or if we hadn't gotten it out in time?"

"Yeah." He shook his head. "I don't like to think about that much."

"I don't either. But it's the nature of what we do; it's the world we live in." Pops grinned. "Ever wonder how much grief she gets for being your girlfriend?"

"She does?" The dark-haired man scratched the back of his head. "Never thought about that." He sighed. "This is just so complicated."

"Oh, just wait until you get married." The older man let out a laugh. "Now come over here and help me adjust the timing. She's going to have the best car on that track tomorrow or I'm not Pops Racer!"

88888888

Trixie's eyes went wide as she stepped inside the Racer garage. "Oh, my…"

"So, what do you think?" Speed grinned, his face sweaty and dirty. Sparky and Pops stood behind him, both with arms crossed and beaming with pride.

"It's…" She walked towards the purple and black checkered race car, arms outspread. "So cool…"

"We tweaked it something magnificent." Sparky chirped up. "Pops here made sure that she'll give you more power than anything on the Thunderhead track tomorrow."

The brunette spun around, clapping her hands together. "So you're not going to try and stop me?"

Speed shrugged. "Don't think it'd make a difference what I said." Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Pops leading Sparky away and into the house; leaving the two alone.

"Well…" He stuck his hands in his pockets, scuffing the cement floor with the toe of his shoe. "I'm not going to not worry about you out there."

Stepping over to him Trixie reached out, stroking his cheek with one hand. "I hope you'll be up there in the booth with Sparky helping me out."

"If you want me there, I'll be there." His eyes remained on the ground. "But I'm still going to worry."

"You wouldn't be my boyfriend if you didn't." She bent down, planting a quick kiss on his lips. "Now show me what you boys did to my car."

He lifted his head, a bright sparkle in his eyes. "Well, check this out…"

88888888

"Stop." Trixie held up her hand at the entrance to the locker room. "Girls only, Speed. At least for this race."

"Aw…" Dressed in his usual blue shirt and jeans he grinned. "Just one look?"

"Not. Going. To. Happen." She looked down at the equipment bag he had insisted on carrying the entire way there. "I told you I had my own gear."

"Well, sure. For flying." The young man smiled as he passed it over to her. "But not for driving." He hiked a thumb back down the hallway. "Pops is making sure everything's in place for the race. I'll be in the booth with Sparky; Mom and Spritle are in the stands keeping the seats warm."

"I'll see you in the Winner's Circle." The brunette smiled.

"Wouldn't have it any other way." Swooping in for a fast kiss Speed tapped her playfully on the nose. "And if you want any help getting out of that gear after the race just call me. Or if any of those other women want a hand…"

88888888

The locker room had just started to fill up with the other drivers as Trixie found her locker, the makeshift nameplate taped to the metal with masking tape. She opened it and put the bag down on the ground, working on the zipper.

"So you're Speed's girlfriend." A strange voice came from behind her. She spun around to see Delila, of Flying Foxes Freight standing in front of her wearing even more pink than Trixie could bear.

"Yes, I am." Putting her hands on her hips the diminutive woman stared back.

"So, tell me – is he as fast in the bedroom as he is on the track?" Delila looked around, seeing the approving grins of the other women to her comment.

Her attention came back to Trixie as a fist slammed into her face; sending the woman head-over-heels over the bench behind her.

"Anyone else?" The brunette massaged her right hand. "You want to take me on, do it on the track."

The other drivers turned away, muttering to themselves as they got ready. Another FFF driver appeared and helped the bloody Delila around the corner.

Shaking her head Trixie unzipped the equipment bag. "Cool beans!" She exclaimed, spotting the new leather outfit and helmet inside.

88888888

"Pops said everything's fine with the car." Sparky handed Speed a set of headphones. "Says she's purring like a kitten and ready to race like a lion."

"As long as Trixie can handle her." Picking up the binoculars the young man peered down at the race cars lining up at the starting line. "Hmph. Looks like Delila's got a bandage on her nose. Wonder what happened there."

Sparky snickered. "Not so much what as whom, I would think."

The two men grinned at each other then turned their attention to the racers below them. "She looks good in those leathers." Sparky laughed.

"Well, if she's going to drive like a professional she has to at least look the part." The young driver smiled. "And she looks pretty hot, don't you think?"

The mechanic held up his hands, putting down the binoculars. "Hey, I'm not getting into that."

"Okay, so show me how you work this." Speed looked down at the console. Sparky shook his head.

"No way, mate – you're just an observer on this one. Let me take her 'round the track." He slapped the driver on the back. "You do the driving, let me do what I do best."

Sitting down in the single chair he looked from side to side; the other booths around them filled with curious onlookers and pit crew attempting to keep order. "Full house today. Everyone wants to see the girls fight."

A scowl came over the young Racer's face. "I hope not."

88888888

Trixie slipped the pink helmet on over her hair, moving her head back and forth. "Much better fit than Taejo's." She muttered.

"I hope so." The familiar voice in her ear replied.

"Speed?" Her eyes narrowed as she grabbed the steering wheel. "Where's Sparky?"

"I'm right here." The reassuring voice broke in. "Don't worry, I'll be keeping track today. Speed's just getting a feel for what it feels like to do some real work."

The brunette laughed as she tapped the ignition button. "Just don't forget to meet me in Victory Lane."

The twelve cars all roared to life at the same time; a kaleidoscope of color and power mixed together as everyone, driver and fan alike, stared at the large screen counting down the seconds.

"Is she going to be okay?" Mom Racer's fingers dug into Pops' arm. "I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to her…"

"She'll be fine." The gruff man replied, his eyes on the purple and black checkered in the center of the pack. "She's got Sparky in the tower and my fingerprints on that car." A grin spread across his face. "Give our son a race for his money."

Spritle looked down on the track. "She's going to get creamed…"

The countdown spun through the numbers; the T-180's roaring their eagerness so loudly that the announcer introducing the drivers could barely be heard. But a cheer went up from the assembled spectators as Trixie's car was announced even with the tag of Togokahn Motors under her name on the scoreboard. Pops nudged his wife's arm.

"She's going to be good…" He roared over the growing noise. The redhead nodded in reply, clutching his hand tightly.

The counter went to zero and the cars leapt from the starting line as if they were greyhounds, pouncing towards an imaginary rabbit at the finish line. The pink and black car charged forward, easily slipping by three drivers who had been slow to react.

"Thatta girl!" Sparky yelled into his headset.

"Don't get cocky!" Speed snapped into his headset.

"Shut up!" Trixie replied; yanking the wheel hard to one side as a black and red car came dangerously close. The offender swerved back into line as the pack hit the first curve, tires screaming as they attempted to get as high as they could on the track without losing control.

"Don't punch it too early for the jump." The young man tracked across the familiar track with his binoculars. "Too early and you won't make it. Too late and you'll lose time."

"Sparky, take that headset off of him."

Sparky looked at the driver standing beside him and chuckled. "She's going to be okay."

Crossing his arms Speed stood and watched the cars careen across the track. Suddenly a red car smashed into the blue car next to it; sending the two spiraling out of control. Fortunately they were at the back of the group and when the two KwikSave bubbles bounced free of the debris there were no other accidents. Spiked arms shot forward to drag the remains of the cars off the track before the next lap.

The young Racer held his breath as Trixie approached the jump along with the rest of the drivers. "Not yet…" He exhaled the words. "Not yet..."

The leaders flew over the ramp with ease, smashing down on the track with practiced precision. The pink and black T-180 charged forward with the rest and accelerated towards the jump.

"Now." Speed whispered. His eyes went wide as the checkered car remained on the track, racing towards the end of the ramp. "Now!" He roared into the microphone, nearly deafening Sparky.

The car stayed on the ground. Suddenly it leapt into the air, passing another pair of drivers who had launched too soon and were struggling to keep control of their vehicles.

Trixie landed with a screech of rubber and metal, gaining momentum on the leaders as they edged around another set of curves; upside down and over the cheering spectators.

"What…" Speed looked at Sparky. "She's okay?"

The mechanic tapped his temple. "Use your noggin. She's not as heavy as you are; different physics. Car's not the Mach 6; she's got the feel of her." He grinned. "You're an awful backseat driver, you know."

A grin spread across his face as he chuckled in response. "You're right, Sparks. I should know better." His eyes went to the cars racing past them. "She's gaining on Kalinkov."

Sparky let out a whistle. "Don't pass her yet, Trix. She's got a wobble on her left front wheel. See if it spins out on the next lap."

"Roger that." Trixie replied, drawing in deep breaths. "Dang, this car can move!"

The pack of cars continued to speed around Thunderhead Raceway, pushing and shoving for position. Another car at the back spun out of control on the turn; spinning end over end and disintegrating as the safety bubble shot the driver to safety.

"Nine left." The young driver shook his head. "Field's getting tight."

"Two laps left to go." Sparky tapped buttons on the console. "She's running perfectly. Pops' little tweaking did a lot to improve the performance."

"As long as no one tosses a spearhook." The young man mumbled.

"Not likely." Sparky replied. "This isn't the Grand Prix. And after what happened there no one's going to even try and touch her with anything like that."

"You hope."

"I hope." He turned his attention back to the track. "Trix, you've got a pair of Foxes coming up behind you. Classic maneuver for a slingshot attack, if…" His voice trailed off as the pink car charged at the Togokahn car, smashing into the back end and sending it spinning out of control.

"Trixie!" Speed yelled into his headset as the pair of pink cars swerved out to each side of the checkered T-180; ready for the kill.

"Not going to happen." The words came out from between clenched teeth as the brunette yanked the wheel hard, punching a button on the steering wheel.

The T-180 jumped into the air, still spinning around. The Flying Foxes' cars slammed into each other; bouncing away in an explosion of sparks and bent metal; burning rubber and angry screams as they shattered into a thousand pieces and another pair of bubbles spiraled down into the safety nets.

Trixie's car landed with an ear-splitting crash on the track, pointed the right way and with the tires grabbing hold of the ground and launching her onwards. Sparky laughed, slapping Speed on the back.

For his part Speed stood there with his mouth hanging open, unable to say or do anything.

"Coming up on the last lap, girl. Stay frosty!" Sparky shouted into the headset over the rising roar of the crowd. "You've only got six other drivers on the track and there's only four of them ahead of you!" His hands danced over the console. "You've got a bit of shimmy on your left back tire 'cause of that landing but you're still good to go – just don't overcompensate too much."

"Roger that." Trixie wheezed into the mike.

In the booth to Speed's left another mechanic grunted into his headset in a strange language, his face furrowed with worry. Behind him a pair of men shook their heads in tandem before spotting the young driver beside them.

"Hey, Speed!" The older of the two men grinned widely, holding up a can of beer. "Your girlfriend's not bad at driving stick. Think she'd like to take my engine out for a tune-up?" He turned to his friend, laughing loudly.

Pulling his headset off the young driver jumped over the low barrier separating them; landing squarely in the middle of the booth.

Sparky shook his head as he turned back to the race, lifting his binoculars again to keep an eye on the pack of cars sledding up yet another curve.

"Sparky, how's my time?" Trixie slammed her foot down on the clutch, shifting the T-180 into another gear.

"Well, you're not going to set a track record if that's what you're worried about." The mechanic replied. A beer can soared over his head, narrowly missing going into the booth on his right.

"Where's Speed?"

"Ah… busy."

"He's in a fight, isn't he?"

Sparky turned to his left. "Depends on your definition, I guess. Does sitting on some guy's chest and beating him senseless with his friend's fist constitute a fight?"

The woman sighed. "Just tell him to…" She went silent. "Sparky!"

The crowd roared, catching Speed's attention. Getting up he skillfully vaulted back into the booth where Sparky sat. "What's happening?"

"Oh, man…" The mechanic moaned. "Look!"

The young Racer didn't need his binoculars to see what was happening.

One of the drivers, maybe the second or third behind Kelli Kalinkov, had gotten eager to take the lead. Too eager. And had drastically misjudged an attack angle on the car ahead of her.

The T-180 spun around and around, still roaring forward as it clipped the car in front and the car behind that as the driver surrendered control and waited to be ejected. When all was said and done two cars were now spinning head over heels.

All headed for the hapless Togokahn Motors car and the two cars behind her.

"Trixie!" Speed screamed; his voice lost in the generic gasps and screams of the crowd. Beside him Sparky's mouth hung open and his hands limp on the table.

The pink and black checkered car jerked hard to the left, narrowly escaping the disintegrating first car. It snowballed by her with inches to spare; taking out the car behind her.

The other driver behind Trixie screamed as she launched herself into the air in an attempt to escape the growing inferno; her jump-jacks vainly trying to gain as much height as they could for the vehicle. But it wasn't enough and she was swallowed up in the fireball; her own escape bubble bouncing away harmlessly.

The conflagration spiraled into the air, devouring more and more of the track even as Trixie maneuvered back towards the center. Caught between two more cars careening towards her and the mess behind her the brunette suddenly accelerated; charging towards the accident.

"What's she doing?" Sparky whispered into the set. "Trixie, what are you doing?"

"Pops…" Spritle tugged on his father's arm, his eyes wide with fear. "What's she doing?"

"Exactly what she needs to do." The elder Racer drew a deep breath. "She really has been watching all those races."

The Togokahn car swerved up, almost over the edge of the curve with the tires screaming as they cut into space. Then it leapt into the air; flipping side over side and using the forward momentum to barely escape the inferno below and in front of it.

Sparky let out a low whistle. Mom's knees buckled and she grabbed onto Pops' arm even tighter. Spritle gasped as if his candy collection had been stolen. Chim-Chim covered his eyes.

Speed stared, tears streaming down his face.

The pink and black car crashed back down onto the track, just clear of the destruction that had taken out almost half of the drivers. With a scream the tires launched the vehicle forward again, within a few car lengths of the three remaining T-180's.

But it wasn't enough.

The checkered flag flew high as the four remaining cars flashed across the finish line, Kalinov sliding into Victory Lane with a wide smile. The scoreboard began to display the ranking of all the drivers with most of the racers being listed as DNF. Delila, of Flying Foxes Freight came in second; Denisemobile of Iodyne Industries a disgruntled third in her pink and white polka dot car. The three drivers climbed out of their cars and headed for the Winner's Circle as one, laughing as they tossed their helmets into the crowd.

The Togokahn car pulled off to the side, metal scraping against metal as it limped towards the exit and the garages hidden within the underground passages of the track.

Kalinov mounted the steps, taking her spot at the top of the pyramid. She grinned and waved to the crowd. Below her the two other women did the same, forcing smiles onto their faces as the WRL officials advanced to award them the congratulatory flowers and trophies.

Trixie unbuckled the safety harness, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness of the Racer garage. The pink and black checkered car gave a final wheeze as the engine shut down, leaving her in relative silence.

"You really gave us a scare with that move." The voice was familiar but she still jumped, her fists bunching up in preparation for another fight.

Sparky appeared, tilting his trademark baseball cap back. "I've never seen anyone pull out of something like that before. And I've been watching a lot of races." He grinned. "You made Speed cry."

"I what?" The brunette unfolded herself from the car, tossing her helmet back on the seat.

"He had just finished pummeling that jerk in the booth next to us and then he sees you do that." The mechanic let out a low whistle as he stared at the battered T-180. "Hope Mr. Togokahn doesn't want this back the way he gave it to us."

"Where is he?" She twirled around, checking the small room.

"Not here." He jerked a thumb back behind him. "You've got to go check out through the locker room, remember? No one allowed back here except for pit crew until the results are verified."

"Oh." Her voice dropped as she let out a weary sigh. "Right. I forgot."

"We'll see you on the other side." Sparky leaned over the single seat, shaking his head. "Well, at least it still runs."

Trixie shuffled off to the locker room, using a side door to slip into the nearly-empty room. The drivers who had been retrieved had already checked out, leaving the spacious room eerily silent. She sat down in front of her locker, opening it and grabbing the equipment bag. Stripping off her pink and black jacket she shoved it into the bag, not bothering to even attempt to fold it. Her pink t-shirt underneath was damp and stuck to her skin, sending a chill down her spine as the air-conditioning kicked in.

"Hey."

The woman spun around to see Kalinov standing there, her hands on her hips. The Russian racer looked almost sheepish as she stuck out her hand.

"Good race."

Trixie stood up slowly. "What?"

"I said, good race." She grinned. "You pulled some mighty fine moves out there."

The brunette took hold of the expert driver's hand, an astonished look on her face. "But… I didn't even place."

"Well, sure. Because I was there." Kelli laughed. "Next time be a bit more aggressive and don't hold back because you're taking advice from your boyfriend. He's good but you could be better with a little practice."

Trixie beamed. "You think?"

Delila slunk by, scowling as she put one hand up to cover her bandaged nose. "If you ever want to dump him you'll have a spot with the Foxes." She winced as she stopped in front of her own locker. "Men. Nothing but trouble."

"I'll agree to disagree on that." Kelli slapped Trixie on the shoulder, seeing the young woman wince. "Now go celebrate the fact that you finished."

"But I didn't…" Trixie's voice fell away, replaced with a wide smile. "Thanks."

"No problem." Kalinov turned away, then back again. "Just tell Speed I'm looking forward to a rematch."

88888888

"Thank you for your help." Togokahn bowed deeply to Trixie in the post-racing briefing. The WRL official looked bored as he finished filling out the forms. "Even though you did not win it was a great race to watch."

"If she had won everyone would have thought it was fixed." The WRL official muttered under his breath, just loud enough for the two to hear. "This way everyone looks good."

"Yes, yes they do." The elderly man nodded as he shook the young woman's hand. "If you do wish to pursue a career in racing I would like for you to consider us."

"Thanks, but I think I'll stick to cheering on the sidelines." Trixie grinned. "At least for right now."

"You better remember that line when you step outside." The official passed her a thick envelope stuffed with legal forms. "The press is waiting for a statement."

"A what?" She blinked wildly.

"The reporters are right outside the door." He pointed at the exit with his pencil. "Kalinov might have won the race but you're the big story here."

"Oh. My." The brunette put one hand over her mouth.

Togokahn looked at Trixie. "If you wish I can have my car take you out another exit."

"I'm not sure…" She shook her head. "All I want right now is to go somewhere and relax."

"Which we can arrange." Pops Racer walked into the room, nodding to the official. "I assume it's okay for us to come in now."

The WRL official shrugged, closing up his briefcase and heading for the door. "All done here. Now it's your problem." He tapped his forehead in a mock salute. "Next time."

"I assume there's no problem with my order, then." Togokahn murmured to the elder Racer.

"None at all. Sparky's already working on the first car and I'll have a schedule to you by the end of the day." He scratched his chin. "What do you want us to do with your car?"

"Keep it." He grinned. "I only hope that if you decide to race again you'll consider Togokahn Motors as a possible sponsor."

"Well…" Trixie smiled back. "I'll keep it in mind."

"Thank you." The executive bowed to both of them before leaving through the same door as the official. A flash of light bulbs going off and screamed questions drifted into the room before the door slammed shut again.

Trixie fell into a bear hug with Pops. "Thanks for all the help!"

The stout man chuckled, lifting her up off the ground as he returned the embrace. "Don't thank me. You did the driving." He gently placed her back down. "Mom's preparing a feast at the house and you better have worked up an appetite!"

"I sure do!" She replied. "But… where's Speed?"

"Right here."

The young woman spun around, leaping into his arms. "Ah!"

"You were great out there!" Speed hugged her tightly, burying his face in her shoulder. "You were great…"

"Thanks!" She laughed. "Did you get that black eye in a fight?"

He reached up, wincing as he touched the swollen skin around his left eye. "Oh. That. Well, no worse than you delivered to Delila."

"Well… sure." A hand tapped his cheek. "I had to defend your honor."

"Oh, really?" The dark-haired man laughed as he snatched up her equipment bag. "Let's get you home before someone else tries to sign you up for another race." A wide grin spread across his face. "Maybe I'll take you to the garage later on and show you some new tricks."

Trixie giggled. "Or I'll show you."

The trio pushed their way out the door into an explosion of flash bulbs and microphones; television cameras and anxious reporters pushing forward with tape recorders at the ready. Pops spread his arms, creating a corridor for the two young people behind him.

"Trixie, are you going to start driving for Togokahn Motors?"

"Trixie, are you going to start driving for Racer Motors?"

"Speed, how do you feel about her driving?"

"Do you think she's a better driver than you are?"

"Is this the start of a Racer dynasty?"

Speed pulled up short as they arrived at the car, a limousine that Pops had wisely chartered before the race.

"First…" He hugged the woman beside him. "I think Trixie drove like a champion today. Sure, she didn't win but I'm not sure if I would have been able to do so under those circumstances. Second…" A hand went up to silence the reporters who hung on every word. "If she wants to continue driving she'll have my full support. Although I hope she'll consider driving for my family, obviously." He beamed with pride. "Team driving is also a possibility."

She turned to look at him, mouth slightly open, then back to the media. "I had a great time driving for Togokahn Motors. They offered me a great opportunity and supplied an excellent car for me to use."

"Does that mean you'll drive as a team in the Crucible? The first husband/wife team in the WRL?" One young reporter jabbed a microphone towards the couple.

Pops' face went beet red. "That… is the end of that!" Grabbing the scruff of both teenagers' necks he tossed them in through the open door of the limo. "Good day!"

Sparky sat opposite the couple, a wide grin on his face as he passed them both ice-cold bottles of water. Speed laughed as his father squeezed in next to the mechanic, pushing away the eager reporters who wanted one last quote before the door slammed shut.

"Thank you for your support." Trixie leaned over and kissed Speed on the cheek. "I know you weren't happy about me doing this but it was something I wanted to try."

"And she was darned fine at it." Pops nodded.

"Yes, yes she was." The young Racer smiled widely as he squeezed her hand. "And if you do want to keep doing this I'll support you all the way."

"Except for the road rally." Pops crossed his arms with a growl. "It's too dangerous."

The two drivers stared at him then began to laugh together; Speed hugging Trixie close as she giggled hysterically.

"I'm serious!" The Racer patriarch waved a thick finger in the air. "I'm serious!"

The laughter echoed in the car as it drove away from Thunderhead, headed for the Racer household.


End file.
